


Of All the Classrooms, You Walk Back Into Mine

by PippinPips



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Chatango Secret Santa, M/M, Yaaaay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-10
Updated: 2012-12-10
Packaged: 2017-11-20 19:02:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/588632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PippinPips/pseuds/PippinPips
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are certain things that are expected in an Academic's life. Of course Charles expects none of these.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of All the Classrooms, You Walk Back Into Mine

Charles is packing up when he feels the mind again. It’s been six months since he’s felt that metallic mind. He keeps his head down, packing everything up in his tote bag before he even looks up, but then there he was—leaning against the wall with a smirk on his lips and his eyes heated.

“Hello, Professor,” he greets. Charles allows a smile to spread over his lips.

“Erik, welcome back. Do you need another consult?” he asks. Erik just smiles.

“No, they don’t have me  _looking_ for anything at the moment, but thank you.” Charles is slow to nod; he drags a hand lightly through his brown hair and just looks at Erik. His long, lean body perfect for whatever his superiors want him to do and just gorgeous enough that Charles can’t stop staring. He met Erik three years prior; he’d been a TA and Erik had been posing as a student. What exactly his mission had been, Charles had kept away from it—dancing around the edges and watching as Erik worked. In the past years Erik became this fluctuating presence that Charles thinks he might expect, but he’s not going to admit it.

“Just here for a friendly visit?” he asks. Erik shifts, he lets out a small smirk.

“That a problem?” Charles shakes his head. There is one thing he wants and it’s Erik and his perfect ass.

“Not at all, would you like to come in?” Charles gestures towards one of the many chairs in the lecture hall. Erik swings away from his post, his stride more of a saunter if Charles is pressed to answer. He barely holds onto his smile when Erik doesn’t deposit himself in one of the chairs but instead situates himself on the desk in front of Charles.

“How have you been, in the molding minds area of your job?”

“Well, I have a few bright students, nothing to write home about,” Charles answers, but before he can ask his own question, Erik waves him off.

“And outside of your job, how is that?” he inquires. Charles bites the inside of his lips to try not to smile before he tilts his head to the side and pretends to think on the question. He watches as the silence begins to agitate Erik, but he also sees how easily Erik stomps down the motions as well. There is a good thing about being a telepath at times.

“Fine, once more nothing to write home about,” Charles finally answers.

“No girlfriend or boyfriend?” Erik leans closer to him. Charles can feel his mind as it twists and turns and as it catalogues everything it can perceive. It almost takes Charles’ breath away. He loves Erik’s mind though he can’t admit it, there is part of Charles that is sure that what Erik is usually sent to look for is people with special gifts, so he keeps quiet about his gifts like he’s sure Erik keeps his mouth shut about his own.

“No, and what of you? Did you go off to see your boyfriend or girlfriend?” Charles asks, but he already knows the answer. Erik’s mind answers for him long before he opens his mouth to speak. Erik holds his own counsel; his lips pull into a smile that Charles won’t admit sends heat down to his groin.

“No,” Erik answers, and his mind adds  _but I came to see you_. Charles nearly leans forward, he very nearly drags his hands along Erik’s cheeks and pulls him into to tell him that he understands. Instead of doing all of that, he pulls at his tote bag.

“Hmmm, very good. Where were you?” Once more Erik’s mind answers for him. It supplies the answer and Charles tries not to let it all show on his face. The images Erik focuses on are violent and ones he would never wish for Erik to have to deal with. He tilts his head up and his gaze clashes with Erik’s. Blue to blue. Air expels from him as he steps closer to Erik.

“Out and about. Searching for things.”

“Bothering other professors?”

“Only you,” Erik promises.

“Should I be flattered?” Charles asks. Erik leans so close that Charles just aches to kiss him, to pull him up against him and kiss the man who makes him go mad until he  _is_  half mad as well.

“That is entirely up to you,” Erik comments. Charles leans the barest bit forward and his lips brush against Erik’s. What he expects is a gentle grabbing, for Erik to hold him like he’s glass. He’s seen that enough in Erik’s mind to expect it. Yet, it’s more like his kiss is permission and Erik grabs him tightly, pulling him so closesothat he is trapped against Erik and his mouth is being devoured. Erik kisses like a man possessed and Charles never wants it to stop—he would, in that moment, be okay if Erik’s mutation was to strip him from his soul. He almost couldn’t imagine how he could ever not want Erik. So maybe that was his mutation, making people want him. It makes Charles feel uneasy for a few moments, to think that this feeling is manufactured, but he shoves it all away and refocuses on Erik who is grabbing at his blazer and trying to tear it off of him.

“My, my students will know,” Charles tries to slow Erik down, just a little. Erik just looks at him.

“They’ll know what? That their teacher has sex? Come now, Charles, you aren’t that old. Some of your students are probably older than you,” Erik whispers.

“Like you were?”

“I was never really your student.”

“No, you weren’t,” Charles agrees. He can feel Erik’s hands as they trail along his skin and cup his ass, pressing him closer to Erik’s crotch. He can feel how hard Erik is and he wants nothing more to rub against Erik, to pull him in and never let him go, but there are students still wandering about the hall and his office hours started ten minutes ago; eventually one of his more inquiring students will try to find him. They will stumble upon the room and then, well, Charles can’t imagine how much trouble he’ll get in for defiling school property, or would it be Erik defiling the property since Charles can see himself plainly in the man’s fantasies bent over the desk—though he hardly thinks his ass looks that fabulous, he’ll let Erik dream—all whilst Erik fucks him. “Someone could come in.”

“Aren’t your classes over?”

“Yes, but I might have a few students coming in to ask me questions, especially when they can’t find me in my office,” Charles reasons. He knows for sure that Hank McCoy was planning on asking him questions about later chapters. Hank has been working ahead of the curve since the semester started, but Charles can’t find it in himself to curb the young man’s curiosity, except for right then, because he has Erik on his desk looking up at him with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He brushes by Erik’s mind, unable to resist curling within its metallic fortresses. Erik makes no show of noticing him, but Charles doesn’t want to be noticed so maybe there is that. However, Erik reaches an arm out and flicks his wrist, Charles hears the lock follow his motion and can barely hold in a gasp.

“I may have lied,” Erik whispers. “I have a mission.”

“Oh?” Charles can feel the rush along his body. He teases at Erik’s mind but the man is keeping him from the secret that he’s going to reveal. Charles wants to pout and demand that he tell him everything. Instead he’s silenced by a kiss. Erik kisses him like he’s the air he needs and Charles just clings to him, holding on probably too tightly but then Erik slowly pulls back.

“They wanted me to convince this brilliant professor to join us. They were sure he showed signs of being a telepath, and they thought I would be the best to pick him up,” Erik pauses, “seeing as we have  _history_.”

“I see.” The problem is, Charles really doesn’t see because he can’t imagine where he fouled up so badly that whoever Erik’s superiors know who he is. He’s kept his entire existence as a mutant a complete and utter secret. Yet, when he locks gazes with Erik he knows he has nothing really to worry about. Erik is dangerous and Erik is someone who should be terrifying, but Charles knows—with the help of his telepathy—that Erik won’t let anything happen to him. “How did they know?”

“I assume it’s because they have their own telepath. They’re looking for someone stronger than her, not that that pleases her.”

“You’re very open my friend,” Charles points out. Erik just smirks.

“I want them to fail.”

“They’re your superiors.”

“For now.” Charles smiles, he can’t help it, he can feel the thrum in Erik’s mind.

“Oh? Really then?” Erik gives a growl. His fingers are burnishing on Charles’ hips, but he can’t find it in him to say that he minds. He wants to see the marks that Erik makes on his body. They’ll be dark and purple against his pale flesh and he’ll be certain that Erik will renew them as often as possible, and as the thought crosses his mind he knows that is exactly what he wants to happen. The marks will fade and eventually the freshness of Erik pressing up against him, of his heat seeping into his bones, will just be a vague memory. 

 “And what do you want me to do?” Erik’s mouth presses against his jawline, his stubble is rough against his smooth cheeks, but Charles can’t find it in himself to mind if a super spy gives him beard burn. Instead he just relishes in the feeling that he’s alive for that moment.

His door makes a pained sound as someone shoves against it, and Charles is pulled back into the world. Erik just watches him, eyes like some sort of predator who will eat him up. There is a pull, to just go right back, but he can’t because right then he’s still a professor. He moves away from Erik; however the sensation of eyes on his back never leaves.

Pushing the door open, Charles tries to make quick work of the student, but she won’t leave until he’s answered all six of her questions and has explained them on every level imaginable. When Charles does manage to get rid of her, he turns back around to an empty classroom and an open window. Charles can’t shake the disappointment that settles in his stomach even as he tries to find Erik’s mind in the throngs of students, but he’s gone.

*

Three weeks later he’s in his office grading a pop quiz he had given after one of the students had gone off and decided to verbally announce that they thought all of the reading was bullshit and a few other choice words. A month ago, Charles would be ashamed of his reaction. He would be berating himself for being so petty. Yet, as he writes the letter F high up on the paper and then circles it, he can’t help but grin. He’s been off his game since Erik came around. The idea of leaving, of going off with Erik and never having to deal with his colleagues who still believe that their age outweighs all the credentials and social boosts he gets as he stays. He likes his students and he does love what he teaches, but there is this image in his head where Erik comes back to whatever hotel they’ve holed up in, sweaty and bloody—but not with his own blood—and then they have a good exhilarating fuck on top of a half dozen papers. It’s also all fantastic and wonderful.

Which is to say, it is all a fantasy.

Some sweet thing his academic mind has come up with because what is Erik really going to do.

He’s still laughing at himself when Erik’s mind comes into view, and then Charles is sitting at his desk attentively following Erik around until he starts coming back towards his office. It’s then that he scrambles to look busy, but what he does manage to do is to just stare at his papers until Erik knocks his knuckles against the wooden frame. Charles’ head snaps up and when he sees the blooming bruise on Erik’s cheek and the split along his bottom lip, he can’t help but ache for him in place of the anger. His jaw drops and he nearly sends all of his papers to the ground. Neither one of them speaks, they just stare at one another until Erik raises a gun. It all seems so disjointed as Charles peers into Erik’s mind and see that no Erik doesn’t want to kill him or hurt him. Hell he can’t even find anything towards the gun except that it’s an order.

Barging into Erik’s mind isn’t pleasant and Charles usually prefers to slide into places more than anything. He hates the initial resistance the mind puts up before it goes slack, but Erik doesn’t fight him. If anything his mind seems to cling to Charles and pulls him towards the area, the darkened bit that Charles almost mistook for the pains of Erik’s past—they’re pretty much the same sensation to be fair. Still he unravels it quickly and watches in silent horror as Erik drops to the ground.

Charles is shaking as he tries to fix any damage he may have caused, but he can’t help but think maybe he’s killed Erik. That he’s destroyed anything that was left of the man that he had found a strange sense of companionship with. He drops to his knees. There is a large part of him that wants to cry as he slides his fingers through Erik’s hair, his own mental fingers teasing at Erik’s mind.

There is a rush of air that is released when Erik’s eyes snap open and he looks up at Charles with a wry smile, but it soon falters. Erik looks angry, his mouth twisting in a grimace and his brows following afterwards. There is a string of curses in a language that Charles doesn’t know, but he’s still fairly certain they are just bouts of profanity.

“What was that?” he manages to ask. Erik drags a hand down his face.

“Proof as to why we need a stronger telepath. This time they used one of our own to do this, but this is the point that there might be sometime when it isn’t a friendly and we need the most powerful one to shield,” Erik explains through gritted teeth.

“No. I am not going to do it. Especially if they decide that this is the way they are going to play,” Charles tells him. His voice is harsh and Erik gives out a loud snort.

“And what are you going to do, Professor?” Charles touches his cheek a finger sliding down along his cheek.

“You are going to take me to their headquarters, and I am going to wipe the slate clean.” Erik makes no argument.

*

As an academic, Charles isn’t used to what he had just done. He isn’t used to tearing through people like they were butter and systematically deleting Erik from their memories all while Erik takes down other agents like him—looking damn fabulous as he does—and destroying whatever he can to keep his identity a secret. Though, Charles does program a few of the agents to delete whatever files they still have of Erik. He’s so busy that he doesn’t notice his fatigue until they’re safe back in their hotel room.

Charles is sure that it is a good thing that he staved off his collapse until they are safe in their room. Erik is also nearly comatose on the bed, laying on his stomach and just sleeping it all off. He takes a few moments, just only a few, to admire the long lines of Erik’s body. The way his waist tapered down to narrow hips and then those long, long legs and then Charles takes a moment to look at his own body. Part of him wonders what Erik saw, but then he shakes it all off because he knows exactly what Erik saw and it was often enough to make him flush hot with the ideas that ran through the other man’s mind. He stretches a hand down and drags it down along Erik’s back. His fingers play along the fabric until Erik’s eyes flutteredopen and he stares up at Charles. At first he seems confused and as Charles dips into his mind, he watches as Erik formulates that he wasn’t on a mission and that yes, being in bed with Charles isn’t a dream.

He isn’t horrifically shocked when one of Erik’s hands snaked out and grabbed him by the waist, forcing him on top of Erik as the taller man rolled onto his back. He lets out a small gasp of air nonetheless when he is brought face to face with Erik. Hands ran down along his back as well before they cupped his ass.

 “You have the best ass in the world,” Erik grumbles sleepily. A laugh bubbles in his chest, clutching at him and making him just want to curl further into Erik’s hold. Instead he soothes himself with allowing his fingers to play with Erik’s hair, twisting and twirling the strands.

“Why thank you,” Charles says softly.

“No, I mean it. Best ass ever.” He laughs again before he shifts his hips. Erik sounds as if his breath is caught and Charles can barely hold on as they share the sensation. Grinding his hips once more, Charles’ fingers dig desperately into Erik’s shoulders. Legs slide open and then Charles is pressed against his hip, while Erik’s impressive cock is pressed against his own. He shifts again.

Erik pulls him down, their lips mashed together but all Charles wants is to loop the sensation. They shift, bodies twining about each other, until all Charles can feel is heat. The entirety of Erik’s mind is like a bright sunlight against him, and every movement sparks something else in Erik’s usually dark and systemic thoughts. Charles feeds on that. He feeds until the sensations are too much and he comes in his pants like some sort of teenager. Erik is right there with him, shaking and gasping.

They both stare into each other’s eyes, waiting for the other shoe to drop; for something to happen, to crash into their lives. Except they aren’t in Charles’ office and Erik is no longer one of the agents sent to pick him up.

“So, what are we going to do, Professor?” Erik asks his voice gruff.

“Hmmmm, we’ll think about that later,” Charles tells him.

“Sounds good.” 


End file.
